As would a man in his right senses on a sweltering afternoon, I switched the fan to rotate faster. And as would a man in his right mind, I wondered why should the fan make one feel cooler.
Consider this. When the blades rotate faster, they smash the air molecules harder, which increases the speed and hence the energy of the molecules. Now, when these energetically jiggling molecules ricochet off your body, they slow down (a steel ball bouncing off the floor would be analogous). Since slowing down means losing energy, there is some energy given off which appears as heat energy*. That’s the catch! How in heaven’s name can a fan heat you up?
The universe is lazy. During any change (a chemical reaction, for instance), the system will always favor a path which drags it down to a low potential-energy configuration. If you’re into the sciences, it’s likely that you’ve observed this bias in topics ranging from torque to binding energy of nuclei. So, if being lazy is deep-seated in our universe (and its beings), is there a way to possibly measure it?
This text goes through your eyes, to your head, back to your brain, and kindles a thought. A vague and unique thought. You predict what you will be reading next. What made you predict? Your brain could’nt have. Because all humans have a brain but not a similar thought process. Which brings me to the question, where are you? Your inner self fabricating these thoughts, giving you a unique life altogether? Where?
Enough psychology. It’s Science. It basically is that tiny nuclear matter in each of your cells. The DNA. Your DNA is unique to you, Science says. But what if it’s not, what if there is someone out there, a replica – you, reading this right now, pondering – just as you? Guess what? There might be.
How would this be possible? You have a certain volume. How many quantum states could describe this volume you occupy? How many alternatives are there? How many possible sets of DNA can occupy you? It is 101070. That’s quite large. This number is so big that it over rides the number of planck volumes in the observable universe. However, if someone were to explore further into the universe, farther than 101070 planck volumes, there is quite a chance he would see your doppleganger, an arrangement of atoms that matches you. Mind, the universe is just 4*10185 planck volumes across. It’s a long way to go.
Also note, For some one sitting on Earth waiting for you to get there, it will take 13.7 billion years. Of course the visible Universe will have gotten 13.7 billion light years bigger in that time.
The arguments presented hereby have been purely extracted from my exhaustive daydreaming achievements.
Frankly, I’ve always loved messing things up. But this mess has held me spellbound. The linguistic mess.
Let’s take English for instance. I’d pick a pair of random acronyms from this language. Say, good and bad. And structure a sentence utilizing them. Say, “It is Good to be Bad.” That’s a rather pessimistic sentence. So, let’s turn the tables and swap the two words, good and bad. Making it, “It is Bad to be Good.” That’s no good as well. Still pessimistic. Why doesn’t switching the words switch the meaning of the sentence too? Why does it have to be pessimistic in the first place?
I am well aware I am being bombarded with a bunch of objections. I’ll clear the decks with another set of examples. Observe these.
Conspiracies again. Dash off ‘Lemon’ on your search engine’s search bar. A decent spindle shaped inside-out torus with a hue of yellow will appear in the images column. A lemon. The crux? The lemon you’re admiring is not yellow, instead it is a mixture of Red, Green & Blue.
Why? Your gadget is intelligent enough only to display red, green and blue and play around with this triple to fabricate hues of other fascinating colours. If you are still wondering, grab a magnifying lens and zoom into the screen of any gadget. You will observe pixels, tons of them. Each pixel has varying concentrations of RGB (red, green, blue) and thus it assumes one of the colours from the spectrum. Appropriate concentrations of red and green fuse to produce yellow. Similarly are other colours born on the screen.
But, shouldn’t we just see green and red, instead of yellow, similar to the image above? No. This image is magnified to an incredible extent. As it miniaturizes to the original, the screen triumphs outwitting our brain. Our eyes are convinced that the light emitted is yellow because the pixels are incredibly tiny to be interpreted by its constituents.
Check out Matt Parker’s marvelous method of cracking a digital photo open, scraping out all of the numbers and putting these pixels into the cells of an Excel spreadsheet.
Unless you’re glad with the fake yellow, ‘hue’ will have to take the trouble of distinguishing the other ten million species of the visible spectrum.
Ever wondered why we are bound to the usage of rectangular maps to represent Earth, and not any other weird shape? Unfortunately, I’m not the first. Gerardus Mercator is.
Annoyed by the spherical inconvenience of carrying a map of Earth, Mercator, in 1569, introduced a rather convenient method of representing a map. The one dumped in your school files: A rectangular map. And there’s a pretty neat logic behind this brilliant substitute.
Consider a sphere whose diameter is equal to the height of a cylinder. Evolve the equations for the total surface area of the sphere and the lateral surface area of the cylinder in terms of the sphere’s radius. You’ll notice the equations tally. Also, when unwrapped, the lateral surface area of the cylinder matures to provide a rectangle. Thus, a sphere’s area is that of a rectangle! Bingo, your map is on the go, in perfect harmony with the sphere, disregarding any extensions to patch the proportionality.
Highlights? The Mercator projection is erroneous. Why? Take a look at a globe’s pole. The longitudes converge into a speckle. Visualize the globe unwinding to frame the rectangle. The longtitudes no longer have a speckle to unite. They spread out to keep the rectangle’s length consistent. Distortions occur. And the area of regions near the poles exaggerate while those nearing the equator minimize.
Greenland’s area explodes 14 folds. Alaska mushrooms its stretch five folds. Check out the Mercator Puzzle and manipulate the distortions yourself.
Thankfully, it has not triggered the distortion of Earthlings; it might!
Take a piece of wire and bend it into a square. Dip it in bubble mixture and blow. Why isn’t it a cube-shaped bubble that comes out the other side? Or if the wire is triangular, why can’t you blow a pyramid-shaped bubble? Why is it that, regardless of the shape of the frame, the bubble comes out as a perfect spherical ball?
The answer is that nature is lazy, and the sphere is nature’s easiest shape. The bubble tries to find the shape that uses the least amount of energy, and that energy is proportional to the surface area. The bubble contains a fixed volume of air, and that volume does not change if the shape changes. The sphere is the shape that has the smallest surface area which can contain that fixed amount of air. That makes it the shape that uses the least amount of energy.
Manufacturers have long been keen to copy nature’s ability to make perfect spheres. If you’re making ball bearings or shot for guns, getting perfect spheres could be a matter of life and death, since a slight imperfection could lead to a gun backfiring or a machine gun breaking down.
The breakthrough came in 1783 when a Bristole-born plumber, William Watts, realized that he could exploit nature’s predilection for spheres.
When molten iron is dropped from the top of a tall tower, like the bubble the liquid droplets form into perfect spheres during their descent. Watts wondered whether, if you stuck a vat of water at the bottom of the tower, you could freeze the spherical shapes as the droplets of iron hit the water.
He decided to try his idea out in his own house in Bristol. The trouble was that he needed the drop to be further than three floors to give the falling molten lead time to form into spherical droplets.
So Watts added another three storeys on top of his house and cut holes in all the floors to allow lead to fall through the building. The neighbours were a bit shocked by the sudden appearance of this tower on the top of his home, despite his attempts to give it a Gothic twist with the addition of some castle-like trim around the top. But so successful were Watts’ experiments that similar towers soon shot up across England and America. His own shot tower stayed operational till 1968.
Neither do I want to have an abrupt wrap-up, nor do I have more words on the fancies of nature. Excerpt from The Number Mysteries by Marcus du Sautoy